They came from Beyond
by AneurysmIncoming
Summary: It's fourth year for Harry Potter. Hogsmeade is in the grip of a foreboding mist. A stranger walks into the Three Broomsticks with an even stranger story. A captivating Eldritch truth. They're coming...from Beyond.
1. The Pub, the Tentacle, and the Leg

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

The oak door of the Three Broomsticks flew open with a crash. The wind whistled as the silhouetted figure of a man rushed through. A few patrons looked up from the drinks they nursed close to them, but most of the large crowd paid no mind. The bar was packed with the residents of Hogsmeade trying to escape the cold of the late December afternoon and they had more interest in the warmth the crackling fireplace offered.

The stranger was in full view now. Clothed in a tweed suit, hazel eyes, balding with fat cheeks, he would have had the look of a jovial University Professor if it wasn't for the wild look in his eyes, the nervous working of his fingers through his combed-over scalp. He shouted over the cacophony of the bar, "SOMETHING TOOK ELIEZER! Something in the Mist!"

Even Harry Potter, caught in a heated argument with his ginger haired friend, Ron Weasley, took notice. Seated next to them, Hermione Granger was engrossed in a rather large tome, not really paying attention to their spat over the Chudley Cannons chances of taking the next world cup. Harry observed his surroundings.

He noted that while the stranger had the attention of a few more patrons now, most seemed unworried. All the same, a cold tingle fluttered up his spine.

Maybe it was the familiar flush of panic on his face, the sweat that ran down his thickset jowls or the way his fingers kept working through hair that wasn't there but everything about the stranger conveyed genuine terror and Harry couldn't quite convince himself to dismiss the tingle as a result of the weather.

Madam Rosmerta rolled her eyes, she walked over to the man's side and gently took his arm in an attempt to calm him down, the tone she took with him was exasperated, "There there, Rowan dear. This won't be the first time Eli's gotten himself tangled with some magical creature and it won't be the las-"

But Rowan, shook her off, he seemed no more placatable than before, "No, this wasn't like that, we were jus-", he stopped himself, still looking wild.

He closed his eyes, gripped the bridge of his nose, and drew a breath before he continued. The fear was still there but he talked with purpose.

"Look, this wasn't one of his daft plans to explore the wilderness, we were just walking to Jenn Maddow's apothecary on the edge of town, think he had some mad idea that if he got a De-aging potion from her that he could get a Unicorn to come to him rather than having to chase them…", from the way Rosmerta nodded, this story didn't seem far fetched in regards to Eliezer, an upward quirk of her lips belied a catty comment but before she could interject Rowan went on.

"So we're almost there, right? But then this...I don't know how to describe it but it looked like a…" his brow was knitted in concentration, as if trying to fetch a memory from the depths of his head, "...large Tentacle? It's scales were like pale glass, and the insides glowed. Two of 'em. Longer than anything I've seen, even on the Squid in the lake up at Hogwarts and the width of it...", like a fisherman trying to show the size of his catch, Rowan held his hands in front of him, almost a metre apart.

Harry had nudged Ron and Hermione to attention, it seemed the trio weren't the only ones listening in on the conversation now, at least half the bar was staring at Rowan and Rosmerta's exchange.

"I was lucky, see? It only caught my ankle and I managed to hack the thing off with a few cutting curses but Eliezer...well, the..the tentacle had wrapped around his whole body and I tried, really, I did!", he seemed desperate and the stricken look on his face betrayed guilt.

"But even the small part I cut off took a lot out of me and the more of it I cut off, the more layers of it there were and…"at this point in the story, his voice hitched. Even Rosmerta looked worried now. He continued, though his tone was dead, "Whatever it was, dragged him off. I could hear his screams. Sounded like he was being squeezed. Couldn't see where it went through the mist."

Harry noticed that the left leg of Rowan's tweed suit was splattered. Viscera and a malignant black liquid had seeped into it. It was still wet, and the stench was almost sulfuric. Harry gagged at the smell of it. The bar which had been filled with the scents of warm Butterbeer, Fire-Whiskey fumes, pipeweed and soft embers from the fireplace were repelled by the stink of it.

The crowd had gone silent.

One of the patrons stood up, wrapped in a cloak of his own authority. Ruffled, dirty blonde hair with watery blue eyes. Morning shadow covered his face. He wore pinstripe pants, a modest looking waist-coat and a lime green robe. Didn't look the part but he seemed to wear the authority well.

He walked over to Rowan and Rosmerta and introduced himself, "Name's Linus." he said, his voice like gravel, tinged with a Yorkshire accent. "With the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, this isn't my area of expertise but I'll disapparate over to the Ministry, maybe see if I can get an Auror here as well, he'll want your statement at least." Rosmerta attempted to usher Rowan to a seat and he nodded to Linus, warily. "Don't go anywhere, alright mate? You've already got everyone riled up over this tall story so don't try do a bunk on us." Rowan acknowledged him with a tired wave of his hand, looking far older than his middle-age.

The Ministry worker started to turn on the spot. Then chaos erupted.

Harry felt an acute pressure on his body, as Linus turned, his eyes darted around, his friends had noticed too. Hermione was already standing up, "No, wait STOP!"

The warning had come too late.

Instead of the loud report of successful apparition, a wet squelch resounded through the bar.

Then screams.

The spot where Linus attempted his apparition was covered in blood, his leg too far from the rest of his body, and he lay screaming in his own gore.

The former silent crowd panicked. Rosmerta hand covered her mouth, her face waxen in shock. Harry and his friends wasted no time. Hermione ran to Rosmerta, and shook her by the arm, "Do you have Essence of Dittany?"

Ron attempted to quell the crowd, making space for the injured man by firing sparks out his wand to get their attention. Harry didn't wait for Rosmerta's reply, he was already running to the Ministry worker. He slipped in the man's blood but he refused to recoil from it. Linus still cried out, the pain must have been extreme.

Once at his side, Harry took a deep breath, his hands shook, but he conjured ropes around the Ministry Worker's leg in a makeshift tourniquet. The knot wasn't tight enough still. Blood gushed out at an alarming rate, Harry cast his eyes around looking for something, _anything_. He saw a stool and inspiration struck. He severed the leg with a whispered Diffindo. He slipped the stool leg into the knot and started twisting. It seemed to do the trick.

It wasn't enough to stem the bleeding. They had time at least. Just then, Hermione appeared at Harry's side. "How..How is he doing? Madam Rosmerta said she has nothing for…anything like this.", she said softly. She seemed worried that even talking too loud would injure Linus further. "I conjured ropes, but the bleeding hasn't stopped", Harry was quick to reply though he could feel his heart thudding against his ribs. Hermione bit her lip, quiet for a moment before she spoke. Her voice shook, "I...I think we have to cauterize the wound. It's the only way."

Linus, his eyes were still open but they had begun roll back into his head. His body jerked violently but his pained moans were getting softer. They were running out of time. "...I'll hold him down,'' Harry said, resigned. This was going to be unpleasant.

He shifted Linus' shaking body into his arms from behind, and hugged his ribs to hold him still. Hermione stared at the bleeding stump, shaking her head as if clear it of cobwebs. Finally, she held her wand close to it, and started her work.

Linus was no longer still, he thrashed violently, screaming in pain. "Ron! RON! I NEED HELP OVER HERE!", Harry tried to get his friend's attention but in no time, his ginger mate was with him, also gripping the Ministry Worker to hold him still.

Hermione pressed the heated wand against the wound. Linus yelped. "Harry, you need to put something in his mouth, so he doesn't bite his own tongue!", Ron cried as he struggled to hold the man still. Harry swore. He quickly found a napkin on the table nearest to him, balled it up and stuffed it into the Ministry Worker's mouth. It would have to do.

Time passed, it couldn't have been more than two minutes of work but it felt like an age, as Harry and Ron held the crying man still, as Hermione administrated treatment. After it was done, Linus took sharp breaths through his nose, his eyes clenched shut. Harry gently removed the napkin from his mouth. _'No blood on it at least'_ he thought to himself, a bit hysterically.

Together with Rosmerta who had recovered from her shock, moved him up against the wall to allow him rest. Ron levitated the leg, wincing in sympathy as he did it, behind the bar, where Rosmerta kept magically sealed cold storage for the drinks. Harry begged off the thanks he received from those closest and ran to the bathroom. Rushing to the closest stall, he threw the door open. He barely made it to the rim of the toilet in time before violently vomiting.

After sitting in the stall for a time, head between his knees, he shakily stood up. He walked over to the sink. He had to wash off the blood and the remains of his spew, cleanse himself somehow. Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale. Still shaking. He looked far younger than his fourteen years and the bags under his eyes shined in contrast to his wax white face. Harry couldn't believe what had just taken place over the past fifteen minutes but he had to come to terms with it. He'd come down to Hogsmeade to relieve himself of worry from upcoming Triwizard tasks, finding a date for the Yule Ball, the mystery of the Golden Egg and have a day of peace with his friends but all that seemed so small now. Like it happened a lifetime ago.

The pressure he felt before the man had tried to disapparate, he couldn't be certain but he was sure that was the cause of the splinch. It was possible it was a coincidence and that the Ministry worker —_Linus? Maybe?—_ had messed it up somehow, but from his friends reaction, they had the same suspicion. And the monster that the stranger —_'Rowan?'_ Harry still felt dazed— had described...It had to be connected somehow. He'd never heard of such a strange creature even in the Wizarding World.

Harry rubbed his eyes. His thoughts were going a mile a minute and he couldn't sort it all at once.

_'Just what the hell is happening here?'_


	2. And so the Wheel of Ka turned

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all I'm doing is playing in a sandbox made by more talented writers.  
**

* * *

Harry exited the bathroom, He was confident that he didn't look as weak as he felt at least. As he made his way over to his friends, the mood of the crowd washed over him. The panic that had been diffused by his intervention with Linus was on the rise again. Restrained but barely.

He felt it as he pushed passed people, some silent, others in the midst of small talk but the small gestures, be it a nervous bite of the lip, a ruffling of hair, or a tweak of the nose, betrayed their fear.

Harry was relieved to find Ron and Hermione, heads bent in whispered conversation behind the bar. He blinked, glancing to their side. The icebox with Linus' leg was merely a foot — he had to stifle a mad giggle — away from them.

He was about to interrupt but they looked up, and to his discomfort, Hermione enveloped him in a hug. Ron rubbed his nose, awkward and uncertain before joining, to Harry's further dismay. He still looked like shite, apparently.

"You alright, mate?"

"Are you okay, Harry?"

They spoke at the same time.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Are you sure, mate?"

"Fine." Harry extricated himself. And if he had to take a moment to rub his eyes, that was neither here nor there. Hermione gave a look of disapproval at the tone he took but at least Ron had the decency to look the other way. He got to brass tacks. "Did you two feel that weird pressure before... everything?"

They nodded.

"Yeah, I thought so, you were quick to react. We can't rule out yet for sure that it was a mistake but, well... what do you guys know about preventing disapparition?"

The crowd buzzed around them as Hermione tapped her fingers on the bar in thought. "Well, we haven't covered them in Defense against the Dark Arts yet, but there are various forms of anti-disapparition jinxes, and they can be cast on an area. It's rather strange though, Hogsmeade isn't supposed to have any aside from charms that are placed on private residences. And that pressure we felt... usually they should just prevent a disapparition with no side effect on the person doing it, otherwise there'd be no end to injuries from rambunctious children and the like..."

Ron chose this moment to interject. "Yeah, this was something else. I haven't felt anything like that since…" He scratched his head. "Remember when I went on that trip to Egypt with the family? Before third year? One of the pyramids we went to, Fred and George wanted to have a laugh and they thought they could get away with trying disapparition in there — there's too much old magic there for the ministry to trace it — thought they could scarper with some treasure behind one of the sealed rooms." He looked a bit wistful for a moment then shook his head.

"Half-hashed ideas seem to be their forte'," Ron continued. "Anyways, Bill nearly had a stroke when he caught them. He gave them a right talking-to and he said that it's possible for cursed objects to spread an anti-apparition jinx. A jinx is likely to be worse than a charm and the consequences for trying to subvert them were dire, you see. His words, not mine. Always picks and chooses when he wants to be the 'cool' brother." He tutted; whether it was over the twin's mischief or Bill's apparent lack of an adventurous spirit, Harry wasn't sure.

Hermione looked impressed that Ron had recalled these details but she didn't mention it, though she looked quite engaged by the idea. "You know, I wonder if Hogwarts uses items like those for their charms. It's a funny idea to me that they would use objects of that kind of power in a school, but it's quite a large area. I wonder if they're somehow similar-"

Harry cut off her impending train of thought, his suspicions confirmed. "Then we're in trouble. Deep trouble. We need to tell everyone. What if more try? What if someone splinches more than just a leg this time? Two legs? Their heart? Can that happen?" He could feel the creep of panic up his spine again. The mood of the mob was rubbing off on him.

His friends shared a look. Harry couldn't quite read the silent communication between them. They turned back to him and nodded gravely.

"Do we tell everyone then?" asked Harry. "I... Won't that make everything worse? What if everyone gets in a frenzy? What if they don't believe us? Just try to brush us off as a bunch of stupid kids?" Harry didn't want to admit it, but his experiences made him wary of relying on adults. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Another shared look between his friends — this one said too much.

"Look, I know I get... iffy about this sort of thing but I'm not wrong, am I?" Damn straight, he wasn't wrong. The trio agreed that they shouldn't announce it in the middle of the room. The air was so thick with the trepidation of the crowd it could be cut with a knife.

They hashed it out over the next few minutes. They settled for telling Rosmerta in the end. It was her bar to begin with. If anyone should take responsibility, it should be her, and they hoped the affection she gave freely to Hogwarts students would help them convince her of their case.

* * *

They couldn't find Rosmerta between all the people gathered together, so they split up. As Harry maneuvered through the throng of people, the stench came back in full force. It wasn't quite the same as the one that emanated from the viscera of Rowan's pants leg. This was mixed with the scent of Rice-Wine and incense. Something grabbed him by the shoulder. A withered hand with a strong grip masked by its age. He turned around.

Harry looked into blind eyes. Though they twinkled like stars. No. They were more akin to dead-light. He shook his head. A hag. He hadn't noticed her during the commotion and without looking closely she blended into the background of Wizard establishments.

"You. You and the other young ones. You are Ka-tet. Though you'll find more in time. Less young maybe yet..I'm sorry." Her voice was aged. Deep. Like the dark. '_What the hell is wrong with me?'_

Harry looked at her blankly. He had to crane his neck as she was a head taller than him, "Uh...Sorry?".

"Yes. You should be. No no no, you're not yet, it's beyond your ken." she sighed, "They have many names, the worlds they come from too. You'll name them in time.", she seemed to size him up at this point, unfortunately she found him wanting.

She looked sadly at him, "It binds us all, you see? Ka. And it's a cruel machine. A wheel. It grinds babes into the dirt for its battle with the Other. What waits for the likes of us is only a deep, dark sea.", she followed the proclamation with a surprisingly casual shrug. As if to say 'What can you do?'. Before Harry could —_Defend himself? Interrogate? Question?— _her_, _she disappeared into the crowd, her walk almost ethereal.

* * *

Against his better judgement, he was about to give chase before he heard his friends call out to him.

Hermione, Ron and Rosmerta were gathered around Linus. He still hadn't woken up. That couldn't be good. Harry gave up the chase before it started with a huff of annoyance and made his way over to them.

On closer inspection, Linus looked _terrible_.

The stump hadn't started bleeding again —'_thank Merlin'—_ but he was pale as death. Still breathing but it was getting softer. The stump looked infected. They had done the best they could at the time, but none of them could claim to be knowledgeable on first aid, magical or otherwise, and they were likely lucky they didn't kill him.

A chill went through Harry at the thought. From the looks on his friends' faces, the same thought had already occurred to them.

Rosmerta cut through their thoughts, "I can't thank you three enough for what you did. I'm...a bit awed that you acted so quickly and with such decisiveness. If I ever get ahold of Minerva, I'll make sure she gives you awards to the school, hundreds of points for the rest of time, whatever . I...thank you. Thank you so much.", Rosmerta had to rub her eyes, they were a mite wet. Harry —and clearly Hermione too though a sliver of pride shone out of Ron— felt awkward at the gratitude.

'_Anyone else would have done the same'_.

Though maybe he was wrong. The mob didn't. Maybe he didn't give them a chance. It was cold comfort.

Having recovered herself, Rosmerta went on, "I think you're right. About the Disapparition Jinx, I'll get everyone to listen but we have another problem. Linus is stable but...well, you can see the state of him. He's still in danger. Hermione here asked about Essence of Dittany. There's an apothecary nearby, Rowan mentioned it. Jenn's not here but I'm sure she'd want to help, not a selfish bone in that one. And we can't take the risk that Rowan's telling porkies about that monster he saw. I'll ask around, we need to form a party.", Harry and his friends were about to volunteer but before they could she stomped her foot.

"No. You've done quite enough and you should have your praises sung from every hill in Scotland as far as I'm concerned but you're...I've heard about your adventures in the school and it's about time we did our jobs as the grown ups in the room."

The three of them still looked mutinous and she sighed. She gathered them all in a strong hug, with a squawk of protest from Harry, and a suspicious lack of it from Ron, "You three are sweet. And you shouldn't have to go through so much, at such a young age too. Let us take the load off."

Harry was still chagrined, hadn't he proved himself time and again? But he let it go, she was right. Ron and Hermione seemed partly relieved. He felt a pang of guilt. He never asked for this, and they sure as hell didn't either.

They'd have followed him anyway.

Now, there was a happy thought.

He coughed awkwardly and begged off, though he promised to return with butterbeer. He needed another moment to himself. The day so far had been an emotional rollercoaster and some warm drink would do them good.

If only it was enough to keep that tingle in his spine at bay.

* * *

Harry drew comfort from the scent of the Butterbeer he carried, it washed over him in a wave of warm nostalgia. It carried memories of the invisibility cloak, the Hogwarts kitchens where the House-Elves were always eager to please, Honeydukes...

He was forgetting something important and it bothered him.

Harry arrived back to the table his friends were seated in. Rosmerta was addressing everyone in the room. "Alright you lot, it's time to get our act together. Now there's no way to soften this so I'm just going to say it. We have reason to believe we can't disapparate away from here, that's why our friend from the Ministry splinched himself."

There was silence for a crowd turned on her then. Frenzied in their demands for answers. Harry noticed the hag that had confronted him earlier near the back, almost out of sight. She was wrapped in an eerie calm, her blind eyes—'_Dead Lights'—_ gazed out the window into the dark. As if waiting for something.

Rosmerta had to fire sparks out of her wand to keep the peace, "ALRIGHT, ENOUGH! I know you lot want to get home, it's getting dark out there, and well, we all heard Rowan's story, and no, we don't have floo powder, I was supposed to go out today to get some. But we have an idea, we need to.."

The crowd never found out what they needed to do. At that moment, all light, magical or otherwise, went out.

Darkness.

'_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off —The face of his father—'_

'_No!'_

Several mutters of 'Lumos' filled the room, to keep the unrelenting dark at bay.

'_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'_

'_No no no...'_

The windows crashed open, the crack of broken glass resounded through the air. And three silhouetted figures craned their necks through.

'_Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now.'_

Dementors.

Their dead eyes reflected starlight, the black cloaks seeped in a captivating gore.

The stench of sulphur.

Harry tried covering his ears to rid himself of the voices, to no avail. He knew their source. It wasn't just memory. His internal battle distracted him enough that he didn't see Ron coming. The lanky ginger tackled him and Hermione to the ground. He dragged them under the table for makeshift cover.

The cacophony of the crowd was at its peak. The individuals within, gone. Replaced by the hivemind of the mob, an alien presence within themselves. A formless entity that spoke a truth in reaching hands, kicking legs, and death pushes.

Frenzied.

They—_it—_ pushed passed one another, leaving bodies in their wake, still or otherwise. When they couldn't push, they knocked each other down, hoping their victim would slow the dementors advance. Or worse, appease them.

Hermione had broken into frustrated, terrified tears. Ron was shouting something at him, he could only tell by the 'O' of his mouth. Large, and frantic.

'_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —–'_

Harry slapped himself. Hard.

`_Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy…`_

He struggled to fish his wand out of his pocket. Rolled out of the cover. He was too slow.

_Shrill laughing. A Woman's scream. His mother's._

Hands clammy, quivering, he waved his wand. Shouting the incantation. Trying to summon a kinder memory. Nothing but wisps of silver.

_Burning. Pain. Green—Dead—Light. It won't leave._

The dementors had Rosmerta in their grasp. She cried, begged but their lidless eyes held no pity. Yet their gaping maws promised a deep, dark sea.

_Dead Light_

Her body crumpled to the floor. Still alive. Harry hated the next thought that cemented itself in his head. A painful insight.

He wished she wasn't.

_**And so the Wheel of Ka turned.**_

**AN: Another chapter done, I hope it satisfies with content rather than its quantity. Things are just getting started, and hopefully it will be a wild ride for all of us. Just wanted to give thanks, to the HPfanfiction and Deadwoodpecker's discord for the advice and encouragement. To my real life friends too, someone has to put up with me at least.**

**If you like the story so far feel free to leave a review and tell me why, even it if it's just a 'Story good, me like story more story please'. Warms the cockles of my putrid heart. Hey, even if you hated it, feel free to tell me why even if it's "Story bad, me no like story, less story please". There's no such thing as negative press as they say. Also I'll be going back to chapter one, realised that 'Disapparition' rather than 'Apparition' was the proper term. Whoops. Till next we meet, friends!**


	3. The Dementor's Congress

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All recognizable things belong to their respective authors.**

* * *

The moonlight silhouetted the black cloaks of the dementors. Their presence was marked by the fog that followed them from the outside. An ice-cold chill flooded the room, freezing blood in it's veins. They paid no mind to the broken husk that once had been Rosmerta. They glided further into the mob- unmoved, ethereal- still seeking satiation.

The crowd was still in madness' grip. The memories of his parents' murder pierced his skull like an icy stalagtite, and the present imprisoned him in unrelenting despair. The truth of it, laid bare. The world hadn't stopped because of the cruel nature of what happened. It merely kept turning. A cruel Wheel.

Ron's bellowing finally got through to Harry, "TRY CASTING A SHIELD CHARM! HERMIONE, HELP HIM!". Ron was beneath the table, still holding Hermione close to him, too panicked to care that he was shouting directly in her ear. Short of breath, tears ran down Ron's face, "I'VE GOT AN IDEA!"

There was no time to question him further, so Harry acted.

He ran to the front of the riot, putting himself between the predators and their prey. Hermione was next to him in no time. Her breathing ragged, face pale and her bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, yet there was a determined glint within them still.

He shared a look with her that he hoped was encouraging. He was at least bolstered by that glint in her eye. With a flourish of their wands, they bellowed the incantation.

"PROTEGO!"

The two charms melded together, forming a wall of pale light, sturdy and shimmering.

The barrier was large but nowhere near large enough to defend both the crowd and them.

The drips of sweat that ran down Harry's face belied the cold. Hermione's forehead was beaded with sweat too. The barrier was exhausting to move. They dragged it across the ground, like an anchor, shifting it to the angle of the dementors approach. He hoped the dementors would be stopped —or at least slowed— by it. He really had no idea if that was possible but he trusted Ron.

The fiends stopped in their tracks for a moment, and hope surged through Harry.

_'Is it working?'_

The seemingly impatient of them slipped around them to penetrate their defense. Yet some lingered. Their gore steeped cloaks ruffled by an unseen force. Their star-glazed eyes stared at the barrier before them, tranquil. Like the dark.

Finally, they reached out to the barrier with their mottled corpse fingers, and pushed. The wall flashed a green light_ — Dead Light —_, and a loud crack resounded through the air.

The fingers breached the barrier, which darkened as their flesh poked through, contaminating it. Black, sinewy lines sprouted forth, like malignant growths. Their corpse hands tore through, clawing at their prey.

The shimmering wall crumbled. Then faded away.

Harry and Hermione swished their wands, a desperate attempt to summon the barrier again but to no avail. It would light the room, topple over, then fade again.

The wall came tumbling down, dragging Harry's hope into the ruins.

Some dementors drifted towards them. The others started their attack on the crowd.

"ALRIGHT, COME TAKE ME YOU FOUL BASTARDS!"

Harry was drawn to the direction of the shout. He spotted Ron, and relief washed over him.

His friend levitated a chair which was wreathed in flames in front of him. It lit the freckles and beaded sweat on his pale face, in a light that was almost divine. Harry tried to get his friend's attention, "What are you doing!?"

But Ron was too focused on his task. He brandished the chair in the grip of his charm as if it was a sword. Harry was eerily reminded of a picture he'd seen in a book when he was young; an unnamed knight, leading a charge against unnamable evil. The dementors turned towards Ron. And attacked.

Harry swore. He tried to summon his Patronus, yet the whispers of long dead parents, and the terrifying nature of the present prevented him from conjuring more than silver wisps.

They were more solid than before.

"THAT'S RIGHT! YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME!? COME GET IT, YOU DISGUSTING SHITS!"

Harry had only ever seen that look on his friend's face once before. In the most deadly chess game of their lives.

"NO!"

His denial didn't stop the realization from hitting him. There wasn't a plan. Ron was sacrificing himself to draw them away.

He had to stop him. Them._ Anything!_

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. The endless chitter of painful memories was white noise. He concentrated on better ones.

_'Hagrid tells me stories about my parents. We're exploring the castle under the invisibility cloak. The first snitch I catch is in my mouth, the taste is metallic. It's embarrassing but we win the match. I share some Honeydukes chocolate with Ginny, she's sad but it makes her feel better, she smiles...'_

Harry's brow curled into a frown. The prick of realization.

_'Honeydukes!'_

Ron threw the chair at his attackers and he turned to run. It flew through the air, a trail of hot ash and acrid smoke left in its wake—

"EXPULSO!"

The chair was blown to smithereens. The dementor's giving chase recoiled in the face of the burning projectile. Harry had to look around for the source of the spell.

Linus, wand in one hand, the other using the table to hold his weight. His breaths ragged.

Harry hadn't the time to express his shock before the inn was bathed in silver light.

A swan Patronus took flight through the air, chasing down its own prey. Hope surged through Harry, he took a deep breath and cried, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The corporeal form of his Patronus soared out of his wand. The stag joined the swan as they gave chase to the fiends.

Rowan emerged from behind the bar. He seemed shaken, pale, but his back was straight. Guiding his patronus to the defense of the crowd.

Harry rallied his Patronus, bidding the stag to stand against the dementors that closed the gap between him and Hermione.

The dementors stopped in their tracks.

_'What the hell?'_

His stag prowled in front of them, it's silver hackles raised, and antlers lowered, ready to charge. Yet they did not flee. They seemed unable to approach it.

Rowan's swan raised its wings to their full span, letting loose a screech. Preventing the other dementors from approaching the crowd.

The whole pub was still.

An aged, deep voice rang clear through the silence.

"It's time."

The hag walked forward, the crowd parted before her like the Red Sea. Her Dead-Lights shone bright not against, but seemingly with the dark. She spoke again, her voice ecstatic.

"Take me to it...The deep, dark sea."

Her face was locked in a rigor mortis grin. She was lost in her rapture. Offering herself to a fate worse than death.

The dementor's glided towards her.

Harry wasn't going to give the dementor's time to act on the hag's moment of vulnerability. He directed his stag towards her, in a defense she seemingly didn't want. Rowan's swan stood its ground, defending the patrons.

But it wasn't enough. He was too slow, or they were too fast. They grabbed their prey and ascended.

Two pairs of _Dead-Lights_ stared into each other. The dementor lowered it's maw, and latched onto her mouth, a cruel parody of a lover's union.

The hag's body fell to the ground. It landed, dead weight and broken bones.

The dementor that had fed on her was still. Then it screamed.

Harry had to clutch his ears, head,_ anything that would make it stop!_ If it didn't, his skull would crack open.

It was unlike any noise he'd ever heard. It hissed like iron scraped over a heated furnace. Yet it was shrill and avian. Profane.

The rest of the dementors joined in chorus, in shared agony. It could only be agony that made a noise such as that.

The pub was a flurry of motion. Harry struggled to keep track of it all, with the noise that pulsed through his veins, the scurrying of the crowd and the frenzied flight of the fiends.

And they were fleeing, in pain or fear, Harry couldn't tell. But just before it left, the dementor that had kissed the Hag looked back at him. He was sure it was looking at him directly.

And it gazed into him with the hag's eyes.

* * *

_Four dead. Three kissed. Countless more injured._

The single digit numbers were burned into his head. The endless refrain of placations ran through his head — '_It could have been far worse'_ — yet they couldn't soothe the smouldering embers in his mind.

_Four dead. Three kissed._

Harry had recognised one of the corpses. A Ravenclaw in Ginny's year, though he couldn't name her. It.

She would have looked peaceful if it weren't for the impossible angle that her neck was twisted in. She likely died in the midst of the patron's riot. No one had come forward to take responsibility and likely, no one would.

_'Just...what a pointless way to die.'_

But to his horror, he knew that it could have been worse. He only had to look at the comatose bodies of Rosmerta, the hag and one of the other patrons.

They had been lucky. The students. Any other time of the year, the Three Broomsticks would have had many more of them, chatting by the fireplace but with the upcoming Yule Ball, many had opted to stay at Hogwarts, making plans, what to wear, still looking for dates. The teachers had stayed behind too, making their preparations for the ball.

The students that didn't stay at Hogwarts were likely with their partners at Madam Puddifoot's. He wondered if they had really averted disaster afterall.

_'Are they okay? What if they were attacked as well? What if they've seen whatever that tentacle thing was?'_

The pub was filled with fear, the air was hot with it consuming the chill that the dementor's left in their retreat. The room was a soundscape of crying, confusion, wails, and half-hearted whispered comforts. Young, old, fit, or heavyset, they were all equals in their terror.

Harry lay against the wall, steadily eating a bar of chocolate. It melted in his mouth, replacing the salty, dry taste of fear. Yet he was drenched in a cold sweat that belied the tense heat of the pub.

As he did this, he took stock of his surroundings. Rowan was supervising the repair of the windows. No one doubted they were in danger at this point though they were at loss as to how deep it went.

Harry had learned when Rowan had shook his hand and given him the slab of chocolate that he was a former professor at Hogwarts — "Ancient Runes, my boy. That's been my calling since I was your age" — and was quite deft at charms so he was placed in charge of fortifying their defences.

Hermione and Ron were —predictably— bickering near the bar. Ron was holding his soot laden hands out for inspection, allowing her to attempt minor healing. Though, Harry suspected wryly, it was all a pretence.

"So you're telling me your plan was what? Set a chair on fire and hope?"

"...Erm, almost. I tripped over Linus while I was looking for something to draw their attention with. He was awake, thankfully, and he said he'd help however he could. I had no idea that Rowan was even there. I figured once I had their attention I'd scarper and make it up as I went along but...this isn't making you less angry, is it?"

Hermione pressed her lips together in annoyance as she rubbed her temples.

Yet there was no heat to the argument. Their banter couldn't hide the exhaustion in Ron's posture, made all the more clear by the slump of his shoulders and the way his eyes shined a bit too brightly, added onto by the worry in Hermione's lip. When one thought the other wasn't looking, a hint of confusion and tenderness would cross their face but they would quickly school themselves.

And when they thought Harry wasn't aware, they'd shoot him looks of concern.

_'They're quite bad at pretending they aren't worried, aren't they?'_, he thought to himself with irritation and a spark of affection.

And finally, there was Linus. He hadn't said much more than a gruff, "Good one, lad.", before Rowan had supported him to a table near the back. He sat alone but he seemed more at ease for it.

At the moment he was examining a chair leg, apparently severed from the chair on the right, and muttering to himself, occasionally grimacing in pain and disgust. His leg still looked infected as before and his support during the confrontation with the dementors had done it no favours.

Harry felt antsy, brooding in the corner was getting to him, so he picked himself up —wolfing down the rest of the chocolate as he did so— and walked over to Linus. He couldn't help but be curious about his two saviors and Rowan was too busy to interrupt. And he didn't think he was quite ready to deal with his friend's concern.

He stood by Linus, a mite awkward. Linus hadn't acknowledged his presence, apparently still distracted by...whatever he was doing. So Harry spoke first, "Erm...Hello? Linus?"

Linus finally looked up at him. Then turned back to his chair leg. "Hello...Harvey, was it?

"Um…"

"I'm just kiddin', lad. I know who you are."

Harry was perturbed by this but before he could think of anything to say, Linus continued. "You know I always figured you'd be a bit taller. What are you doing in school anyway? Would'a thought you'd be living it up in a manor somewhere, some harem girls at your side, and maybe a couple 'a lordships under yer belt."

"...What?"

Linus stared at him, with quite a serious look on his face. Harry was completely lost now, but after a few moments, Linus barked out a laugh. This caused him discomfort it seemed because it was followed by a wince. He seemed to take it in his stride.

"The look on yer face, lad. If only you could see it."

"Right...So what are you doing with that?"

"This thing?", he wagged the table leg in his hand, questioningly. "Trying to work out if I can transfigure it into summat that can help my current disability. A crutch would be a mite easier to make but if we get in another situation like earlier, well...I figure I need something more permanent. Maybe I can mangle it into something like ol' Mad Eye's peg leg."

"You know Professor Moody?". Harry was surprised by that.

"Who works at the ministry and doesn't know the daft, ol' gaffer? Not close to 'im mind but we've had a pint together on occasion."

Harry found it hard to imagine the gruff, no nonsense and incredibly paranoid professor having friends, nevermind drinking with them. Linus followed this with a sigh which drew Harry out of contemplating this frankly alien concept.

"My ma' always told me I should have worked with the spell reversal squad, better paid she says. But no, I have to go and join the Muggle Worthy Excuse Committee." He shook his head dejectedly, "Could use one of those buggers right now. They'd have me fixed in a jiffy."

Another wince from Linus. Harry couldn't help but sympathise, "I'm sorry about your leg, we did what we could but…"

"It's fine. Might've died without yer' help. I got no complaints and well..."

Linus trailed off, staring at something in the distance. Harry followed his gaze.

It was the bodies of Rosmerta, the hag, and the unnamed patrons. Four dead. Three kissed.

Harry finished his thought for him, "It could've been worse."

Linus nodded, then stared at him, his face grim. Harry wasn't sure but he felt like he was being sized up. He met Linus' eyes, challenging.

Linus' eyes were calculating for a moment but he turned his attention back to the table leg he had in his hands, apparently satisfied that he found what he was looking for.

"Lad, I'm gonna be straight with ya. So far the only people whose 'ead is on their shoulders rather than the arse end are you, yer two friends and that old gaffer, Rowan."

Linus paused for a moment, scratching the back of his head in worry. Finally, he nodded towards the dementor's victims.

"I don't think we can leave them like that, it's...cruel."

Harry wasn't sure what he was getting at, "But there's no cure for being kissed. Everyone knows that. What can we do?"

"Aye. But there's summat we can do."

Harry was confused still but then it dawned on him. No.

"But that's murder! That's not right!"

Surprisingly, Linus nodded in agreement, his face wary, but he still pressed the issue. "Aye, but I think it's even worse to leave the poor sods to that fate. Look at the state of 'em!"

Harry protested as Linus reached out from his seat, grabbing him by the shoulders. Linus forced him to look at the victims. Harry felt his heart thudding in his chest. Linus' voice took on a harsh tone, "They'll never recover from this. They're not people...not anymore. Can't look after themselves, they're not even aware of their own existence. They're husks. Nothin' more."

Harry shook off his hands, surprised by the unexpected contact. He turned to look straight in Linus' eyes.

There was reluctance, hesitation and resolution in them all at once. The resolution was winning out.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair, agitated, "You can't just—"

But Linus shook his head angrily, "Lad, I get it, really, but what do you expect us to do?". Harry tried to protest but he continued, "Feed them? Bathe them? We have the food for now, aye, but for how long? And what about the good will of the rest of this lot? You think we can take care of them and treat everyone's injuries too?", he pointed his thumb at the rest of the pub.

The patrons that were still on their feet had a wary, tired look in their eyes. Exhaustion and fear were rampant, for themselves and for those that were incapacitated. Harry saw Linus' point but...

Harry ground his teeth. He felt like a heel for what he was about to say next.

"You owe me. I saved your life. My friends and I."

Linus scoffed at him, "Life debts aren't real, lad. Just old wives tales and plot devices used in Sickle-Store romance novels."

Harry nervously raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah... but you owe me just the same."

"...Perhaps I figure that debt was paid, when I helped you lot earlier."

"Maybe, but we drove them off in the end. Hermione, Ron and I. Rowan too."

Linus glared at him but Harry held his gaze. Finally after a few moments, Linus sighed in resignation.

"Alright, lad. I hope you don't regret this. We reap what we sow."

Harry jerked his head in acknowledgment and stomped away. He couldn't talk with Linus any longer.

* * *

He made his way to his friends. Hermione was crying on Ron's shoulder, he seemed conflicted about where he should put his hands, and had settled for rubbing her back, softly but awkward at the same time.

"...It's gonna be okay."

"But what about Harry, he's—"

Harry coughed loudly to draw their attention. They squawked in fright, jumping away from each other. He cut through the mumbled denials, he had finally remembered something important.

"Honeydukes."

His friends looked at him, baffled. Ron sounded hesitant, "Uh...What are you on about?"

Harry shook his head roughly and continued, "There's a secret passage out of Hogsmeade there. Remember how I snuck here under the cloak in third year?"

Hermione and Ron's eyes grew wide. Then Ron whooped.

"So there's a way out? What are we waiting for then, lets go!"

But Harry shook his head dejectedly, "We can't. There are still too many injuries and not everyone can make it under their own power. And we don't know what's out there. There's at least that..that thing that Rowan was talking about earlier. I think we have to go to that apothecary. You know, for healing supplies. Hopefully someone here knows their potions. And we know there's dementors out there too…"

Harry trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. He shook his head and went on, "It's weird, I've seen what they look like...you know, under the hood. I don't remember them having eyes at all, just sockets."

Ron looked at him, confusion clouding his face. "Uh mate...what are you on about now?"

Harry looked at him blankly, "The dementors. They had eyes like…" _—Dead Lights—_ "...the way they shined, it reminded me of the killing curse."

Hermione and Ron looked at one another, concern clear on their faces. Ron was about to say something but Hermione stopped him. Her voice laden with worry.

"Harry...dementors don't have eyes."

* * *

**AN: Another few weeks, another chapter done. I hope it satisfies once again. Thanks to everyone that's helped so far on the HPFFN, DWP and H/G discords, couldn't have done it without the encouragement and support. And once this is posted, I'll be responding to pm's to anyone who leaves a review! As always, if you loved it, feel free to tell me why and if you hated it, feel free to leave a review and tell me why! I like hearing everyone's thoughts. Till next time!**

**AN2: Sorry, had to correct some typos and prose which is why I had to update again. Sorry for the false alarm.**


	4. The Lull Between Storms

**Disclaimer: I own nothing as usual.**

**Author's Note: Kept you waiting, huh?**

* * *

An old gaffer walked into a pub. He couldn't grab a pint like the rest of them. The man was covered in black viscera, scared out of his wits.

It might have been a good premise for a joke; Linus had a better sense of the macabre than humour but he couldn't find it in himself to laugh.

The punchline was out of his reach.

Instead, the old man told a story straight out of tales that ol' nan used to scare him into behaving as a kid. A troll who kidnapped idle boys. The Kappa,who snacked on children who wouldn't learn to swim.

A pale glass tentacle, dragging men into the mist.

Dementors that fed on the essence of the living.

The last was more real to him now. For all the wrong reasons.

So Linus did what he always did. He submerged himself in his work.

He traced the contours of the broken stool leg. His left hand mirrored the motion over his cauterized stump. It made him wince but it was needed. Pain kept you alert. He needed tactile knowledge of the object in order to begin.

In a way, it would've been easier if he was making the appendage for someone else. You're not blind to to the makeup of someone's character in the way you are to yourself. You can't see their inner thoughts but you notice the twitch of fingers when they're caught in a lie. The soft-sigh before giving bad news. In transfiguration, especially in human transfiguration, you need that objective view of the object. It's what made it so dangerous to do it on yourself.

'_All good work starts at the bottom, and you work your way up, lad', _the voice of his father - long dead - whispered in the back of his mind. An oft repeated pearl of wisdom. One that lost its lustre after the hundredth time it was heard.

'_That's all well and good when the bottom hasn't gotten trapped knee-height in muck and shit. What do you do then, eh?'_

The Yorkshire lilt of his father's voice was silent at that.

His gaze was drawn to the icebox that stored his foot. What was left of it at least. Linus had considered re-attaching it, consequences be damned. Sure, he was a dab at transfiguration, he wouldn't even attempt what he was doing otherwise, and he'd fixed a splinch or two in his time, but there's always a risk fixing your own splinched appendages. Maybe nothing goes wrong...or maybe you blow up what's left of it or worse; attach the foot upside down, inside out.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe._

Too many of them. And when help wasn't coming, one was too much.

'_Now, there's a punchline. The Splinch-fixer who can't fix his own Splinch!'_

Good joke. Everyone laughs. Then screams.

He was ready to begin. He held the stool-leg close to the mangled stump of his leg. He drew a circle in the air three times with his wand, followed by a swish and a flick. And finally, tapped the leg three times. The leg shone with a blue light for a second, white streaks tracing the surface of the wood, like varicose veins. The wood of the leg grew around the stump, protecting it. As the blue light faded, it coalesced into the leg's new form.

A peg leg. Straight out of those muggle pirate comics he'd read as a boy. It would take him time to walk without a limp, and he'd have to take it slow in order to not trip himself up, but it was the best he could do under these circumstances.

The pain was still there. He couldn't reach it, it was located in the air that once had contained the rest of his leg. An unscratchable itch. He pinched his right hand, hard. It cried out but the phantom pain was dulled. For now.

Linus grit his teeth and took a few long breaths through his nose. The wind of his breath tickled his upper lip. It was enough to bring him back in the moment. He had business to attend to. Not time to dwell.

He stood up, gingerly testing his new appendage. He tripped, but grabbed the table to keep his balance. As he recovered he scanned the crowd. He needed someone to unravel the knots in his head, someone to bounce ideas off of. Potter was secluded in a dark corner with his friends, from their faces, the three of them looked distressed, their exchange quiet but rapid. No. He needed someone useful, not panicked. They had proven themselves, but they were still young, unable to compartmentalize. Their youth made them naive and unwilling to do what needed to be done, his argument with the boy had proved that for sure. His eyes resumed their scan of the throng of people.

'_And there's our winner!'_, Linus had found Rowan, finished with his work on the windows. He was polishing his monocle, from the twitch of his fingers, Linus inferred that this was a nervous habit of his. The man was still shaken, but he was there. In the moment, still aware of his surroundings. Good.

Linus stood himself up, careful to balance his weight on his good foot.

_'Left, then right. Left, then right...'_

He kept up the mantra as he navigated the crowd. There were still a few close calls but this time he didn't fall on his own arse. He wouldn't be running anytime soon when it took this much concentration just to keep his slow gait but it was better than nothing. He approached the older man from behind.

Rowan noticed his approach, apparently still alert despite his nervousness, he nodded in greeting, "Hello, it was Linus, wasn't it?", he held out his hand to shake. Linus took it in his grip, the shake was gentle. Linus wasn't sure where to start so he opened with thanks, "You have my thanks. If you and young'uns hadn't acted as you did, we'd have all been killed...or worse."

Rowan nodded, he'd likely heard as such already. He looked tired, so Linus pressed on. "...We're still neck deep in it though. We can't get complacent. Take a look around, notice anything?"

Rowan didn't need to, he'd cottoned on immediately, "Aside from you, there's not a ministry worker in sight. Which means…"

"That whatever is stopping us from disapparating, has blocked the floo network too. We might not have any powder on us, but that shouldn't have stopped the Ministry from sending help. Which means they can't. We're cut off somehow."

Rowan shook his head however, "There's other ways, Portkeys, brooms, they've got Thestrals up at Hogwarts—"

"Yet here we are. Not an Auror in sight, locked down in a pub in the middle of," Linus waved his hand, "...whatever the hell this is."

The old man continued to absently polish his monocle for a moment, lost in thought. Finally he spoke, his voice taking a dark tone. "This mist...its queer. Unnatural-like. Out there you can feel it in your bones. The chill. And it came so quick, before—" He paused, seeming to have to suppress a shudder, "Before Eliezer was taken by that thing, I thought maybe my age was starting to catch up with me, I tried to ignore it but that feeling stayed with me. Like the mist was trying to wriggle under my skin. Get inside me."

Linus thought he saw where this was going ,so he waved for him to continue.

"It has to be magical. Dark. I've never seen anything like this. The young ones were onto something when they said that maybe it was a cursed object, but I suspect that it's more dire than that. It's the mist itself that's cursed."

Linus nodded his agreement. He thought it was a good guess at any rate. They had been here for a couple of hours now and the lack of help was disturbing. A disapparition jinx might have explained the lack of immediate response but nothing at all? Even hours later? The sense of _wrongness_ went bone deep, and there it—_was trying to wriggle under his skin—_stayed_._

He looked at the crowd once again.

They wandered around, huddled in groups, whispering amongst each other, probably speculating on why they hadn't been rescued yet. In his work for the Ministry, Linus had worked with the muggle police—often without their knowledge—on occasion. And from those experiences, he had managed to work out an important difference between how the muggles kept the peace and how it was maintained in the Wizarding World.

Often the muggle police could only deal with crime after the fact or act in order to mitigate the crime happening in the first place. Foot patrols to disincentivize would-be muggers. Taking a statement from victims of robbery or assault in order to investigate it afterwards. Wizards with all their forms of magical transport and travel had the luxury of rapid response, often preventing incidents in progress. It was what prevented crime from getting out of hand when everyone was capable of turning someone into a small rodent with a wave of a wand.

So what happened if that was taken away? They wouldn't have long before everyone else figured this out. The thought must have occurred to someone beside them already. How long till it spreads to everyone else? What would happen with a panicked crowd of wizards and witches convinced that no help was coming? Especially with the unnatural—even by wizarding standards—creatures, dementors among them, laying in wait?

Mix, add hysteria and stir.

Chaos.

They were in deep trouble.

* * *

_Deep in the mist, just beyond the range of hearing of those trapped in the Three Broomsticks, a howl ripped through the night._

* * *

When he'd been young, the Dursley's had—much to their chagrin—taken him and Dudley on a trip to Dover. He'd gotten to look over the cliffs, at the bottom of which the waves crashed against the white of the stone. He hadn't been able to fathom the height below him, as a young boy, it seemed impossible that anything could be so big and go on for so long without falling into the Earth itself, yet there the waves were. He'd dropped a stone over the edge while the Dursley's weren't paying attention, to confirm that there was a bottom to those cliffs, that his eyes weren't tricking him.

He dangled his hand over the cliff's edge, and let the stone slip out of his grip. It plummeted and disappeared. He hadn't even seen it splash in the waves from the height he was at.

As the blood drained out of his face, he wondered if this was what it was like to be that stone.

"What did you say?", Harry asked.

Hermione worried her lip, she seemed to be wondering whether she should go on at all. This served only to make Harry more visibly agitated so she repeated herself, "Dementor's don't have eyes, Harry. You know that, you've seen them up close. Last year when we rescued..um..Snuffles."

"But…"

"Harry, Ron and I have been talking and...well…"

The lanky red-head chose to interject at this point, the discomfort visible on his face, though maybe it was to save Hermione from her flailing, "You don't look well, mate. Not sick but...you know hearing voices isn't good in our world—", he made a placating gesture with his hand at Harry, who had his teeth grit and went on,"I'm not saying you're crazy, I mean at this point, funny things happen around you all the time and we'd be stupid if we couldn't pick up a pattern, but with everything that's happened, well...are you okay?"

Harry took a moment, mentally taking stock. His thoughts whirled, not once settling down, just a haze of _panic, exhaustion, restlessness, adrenaline, panic, Panic, PANIC_. He felt clammy and the panic fog buzzed in his brain but how else should he feel? With everything that had happened, it could be worse. He was still standing and he wasn't—_Three kissed. Four—_dead. He stared at Ron, incredulous.

Ron scratched his ear, "Right...stupid question. We're just…"

"Worried.", Hermione finished for him. To Harry's horror, the corner of her eyes shined with tears, she wasn't crying. Yet. "We're barely standing as it is, and...I'm worried. Someone should have been here by now, even if it was by Floo or broomsticks. Disapparition isn't the only way the Ministry has of getting around. And what about the staff at Hogwarts? Someone should've been here by now, they wouldn't leave us like this!"

Harry swallowed. They were giving him _that look_. The one where they were worried about him, worried about the danger they're in, worried what would happen next, worried about _him_ and they needed him to say or do something, _anything, _that would make it okay again. He resented them for it. He loved them for it too. They loved and believed that he could make it okay, and they'd do anything to help him if only he could say or do it.

Harry took a calming breath, before the dread, resentment and love that humbled could burn into his gut.

What Hermione had said had dawned on him too, slower but it came. He wasn't nearly as acquainted with the Wizarding world as Ron and Hermione but even he thought it was weird that no one at all had come.

It would have to wait.

He held his hand up to stop her, "One thing at a time."

She rubbed her hands on her skirt, nervous but she stopped. Harry went on, "So what does it mean? I swear, I'm telling the truth, _they had eyes._ It was like I was staring into...stars. Dead stars. Does that make sense?", for all his protests to the contrary, he knew what he sounded like. He was starting to ramble. He shook his head and said, "What could it mean?"

Ron shrugged, but he was trying to keep in good humour at least, "You're losing it?"

"Fair enough. Is there a door number two?"

"We didn't believe you about the Basilisk at first.", Ron replied darkly. Hermione rubbed her temples, "That was different though, it was speaking Parseltongue, and we know that Harry can...you know? And he's seeing things now! But maybe…?"

"It's Voldemort", Harry finished for her. "Or it has something to do with him. Great. Either we're in even more danger or I'm barmy, and we're in danger."

Ron shrugged listlessly and Hermione had a sympathetic look in his eyes. Harry was quiet for a moment. The buzz was still in his head, not letting his thoughts settle but he was able to go over them slowly, trying to think of something he'd missed. The old and terrified man running into the bar, the splinch, the hag, the attack…

The hag. What had she said to him?

"There was something else. Remember that hag? Who let herself be…", Harry had to repress his disgust and horror at the memory, "Who let herself be kissed? She said something to me before? It didn't make any sense, I think she was talking about...fate? She said it was a wheel. And that a deep dark sea waits for all of us. She said we were.."—_Ka-tet—"_bound? It seemed like she was saying we were destined for something, and that there'd be more who'd join us. Can hags see the future?"

Ron appeared to be baffled so Hermione spoke, "Hags have always been an insular community, even by wizard standards. They don't use wands like we do, but they are magical. We just don't know about them, there's legends that say that they're capable of things beyond our understanding but we can't tell the myth from the fact at this point, and they haven't gone out of their way to explain anything. It's possible, I suppose. Can you remember the exact wording?"

So Harry told them everything he could recall of the strange exchange. The mechanical wheel of Ka. How they were bound as Ka-tet. And that there were more who would be bound to them. How _they_ had many names and that he'd name them in time. And what would for them was a deep, dark sea.

Hermione's face was caught between frustration, concentration and wariness, "It's...vague. But you said she wasn't like Trelawney? When she gave her prophecy? The hag was lucid at least. Who could 'they' refer to? The things outside? Us? Someone else entirely? I don't know, Harry, it's weird but maybe she was just mad?"

Ron's upper lip was curled in a mullish expression, "Couldn't have the decency to at least be clear. What's the use in seeing the future when everyone has to be so cryptic about it?"

"We haven't established that yet!", Hermione retorted.

Harry held up their hand to quell them. He wasn't sure he could stand a round of sniping—good humoured or otherwise—and he was beginning to doubt whether he could keep standing at all. It had been a long night.

He raked his fingers through his hair, "I think we have to leave this for tonight. I feel like my head is going to burst. We'll...we'll work it out in the morning. Maybe help will come by then. Disapparition and the Floo aren't the only way the Ministry has of getting to us. There's still brooms. Who knows? It's...just been a long day, you know?"

His friends nodded, they didn't look any better than he did, and there was an air of exhaustion between them that went skin deep. They gathered with the rest of the crowd, who were conjuring makeshift beds for the night. The three of them talked with some of the others as they did it and they learned that Linus and Rowan had volunteered to keep guard over them tonight and they'd trade posts with others after a couple of hours.

Eventually, Harry found himself in a navy blue sleeping bag on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. For all of his exhaustion, his mind was still restless. He put his right arm over his face, submerging his vision in the gentle darkness of the crook of his elbow, and waited for sleep to take him.

* * *

Harry couldn't tell how much time had passed. All he knew was the aural landscape of quiet murmurs, snores and muffled cries. The tip of his nose felt like ice and despite their fortifications, the fog slipped through into the pub itself. The moist smoke was illuminated in the moonlight. He could see an ocean of bodies before him, thankfully those of his friends were closest.

Yet his eyes were still drawn to the back of the pub, where the bodies of the fallen lay. Not the dead. They had been taken to a room in the back but no one had been sure what to do with those that had been kissed, it felt disrespectful to place them with the dead, yet keeping them close by was worse. The hivemind of the crowd around them seemed to have settled for leaving them at the back, while being careful to make sure there was more than some distance between them and where they slept.

Yet they were plainly in view. Or at least Harry couldn't stop his gaze from being drawn to them. They had tried for some decency and covered them in what was left of the table cloths. Makeshift death shrouds. If only they were dead. He remembered something that Dumbledore had said to him once, about Voldemort, _'There are worse fates than death.'_

He understood that better now. Not nearly enough to kill them in cold blood, as Linus had been pushing for. The very thought made him break out in goose-flesh. Even from this distance, with his glasses off, he swore he could see one drawing breath. Husks that couldn't do anything but draw air into meat-sack lungs.

This time, Harry did shudder. And while he couldn't be certain, his vision being what it was, a feeling of certainty crawled up his spine that the body—_husk—_was that of the hag's. What had she said before offering herself?

'_She said that they needed to take her to it. The deep dark sea.'_, he could picture with perfect clarity her smile. Her corpse-grin.

And there her body lay, it's breath causing the death shroud to shift. Harry felt his heart thrumming in his chest. His breath was getting ragged. He turned to his side.

He couldn't look at them anymore. Yet he could feel the paranoia like tiny pin pricks crawling up his back. The sensation of being watched. Of being judged. He'd turn around again and be staring into the faces of the Kissed. Their eyes empty of everything but their _dead-lights_ and they'd point their corpse fingers at him, blaming him, shaming him and eventually breaking him. It would come full circle, grinding him into the dirt as he deserved...

* * *

_Once again, this time closer to the three broomsticks, a howl ripped through the night._

* * *

Harry felt drained suddenly. He swore he had heard something in the distance. An animal's cry, somehow invigorating and full of hope . A balm for the weary soul. His eyelids felt weighed down. Finally, the sleep eluding him had come.

And for reasons he didn't quite understand, he dreamt of Sirius Black.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm back! Sorry about that long wait. I'll do better next time. The world sure went crazy for a while there, didn't it?**

**With this chapter update, I'd also like to announce that I've created a discord for this story, so you should come on by! You can badger me into writing and get sneak previews of upcoming chapters or just shitpost if that suits your fancy. Just remove the spaces from the following link which you'll also find on my profile page as of now: discord . gg / 7qFjuSS**


End file.
